Annabelle
by RMB27
Summary: PreBioShock Infinite. "Do you believe in God, Mr. DeWitt?" "I believe in you, Miss Watson." The story of Annabelle Watson, who she was and who she was going to be.
1. Chapter 1

A:N/ I love BioShock Infinte. I really wanted to put more light on Annabelle Watson, wife of Booker DeWitt, since we don't really know much about her other than the fact that she's Lady Comstock's counterpart and that she died during childbirth.

So, here's my little story that I hope will bring an interesting point of view.

* * *

 **London, 1888**

The upbeat music and the laughter of the elite of London filled the air and anyone within earshot knew that there was another show of glitz and glamour amongst their midst.

With glitz and glamour came beauty.

Annabelle Watson took a deep breath before she decided to close her fan as she entered the candle lit venue. The ballroom was gorgeous and the dancing seemed marvelous, but she needed to pay attention to what she needed to do.

She squared her shoulders just so, elegantly swept her hair to the side, and she made sure her skirts were brushed once before she spotted the person she was looking for.

Commander Lucas Scott was chatting away with his Army buddies, and Annabelle smiled that dazzling smile and made her way towards him.

"Well, hello, gentlemen." She greeted, warmly, making sure she brushed against the Commander ever so softly as she reached for his glass.

She felt a small elation of victory as she saw the Commander look at her with appreciation in his eyes.

"Miss Watson, what a pleasure to be graced with such beauty tonight." One of the men complimented her.

Annabelle feigned light laughter as she once again brushed up against the Commander as she cheekily smiled up at him.

The dark look in his eyes was enough to let her know that she had won.

* * *

She watched as her brother counted the money that she handed him, and she winced a bit at the sigh that escaped his lips.

"What a cheapskate." Her brother groused as he angrily slammed the money down on the table.

"It's as much as I could afford for the night." Annabelle tried to reason as she watched her brother angrily get up and pace the floor.

"It's not your fault, Belle. It's these American men who think they're all that for coming into our country, thinking that we need their protection." Her brother muttered as he grabbed his half-filled glass of alcohol from the table.

Annabelle, sitting primly and properly, watched her brother carefully before sighing.

"I can try again tomorrow. There are plenty of men who have just arrived. I can—"

Her brother cut her off as he placed his glass down back on the table.

"We are in debt, sister. Enormous debt."

Annabelle couldn't help but frown a little, looking at her brother's face.

"I wonder whose fault is that." She argued, softly.

Her brother glared at her, but he didn't say anything as he got up. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her and Annabelle more than welcomed it.

Before she could leave the room, she was stopped by her brother's voice.

"If it comes to selling your…assets, Belle. I wouldn't discourage the notion." Her brother said.

Annabelle gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and she had to take a deep breath before answering her brother.

"My asset is my charm, brother. I _charm_ men for their money as they pay me to dance with them and give me drinks, but I refuse to share a bed with them for money. I would not disgrace our family for money. Goodnight, brother."

* * *

Annabelle angrily brushed her hair as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

It had been only a year since she left the convent to rejoin her brother as he finally returned home from America.

She had been so happy and hopeful when she hugged her brother when he came to pick her up.

She hadn't seen him in years since they left Paris as newly orphaned kids and arrived in London to live with their late father's relatives. Her brother was ten years older than her, and he had taken care of her as much as he could when they were kids, but he had decided that their father's relatives didn't have their best interests in mind, so he had left her to go to America to make something of himself as soon as he was old enough to do so.

Thinking it dangerous, he left her to be with the relatives in London, but they had decided to put her in a convent as soon as she was six years old. She had lived there for ten years, learning and growing in the faith of the Sisters.

When her brother came back and found out where she was, Annabelle had been so ecstatic to be reunited with him, but it had been bittersweet since she did miss her caring nuns and friends she had made in the convent.

She had even entertained the idea of being a nun herself.

She had chosen her brother instead, and she had been excited to hear of his success in America.

That's when her happiness was short-lived.

Her brother had lost all that inherited wealth that they both had shared through lost business and other vices.

He didn't admit it to her. He didn't have to.

She had quickly caught on, and she strived to try and help their situation. They still had their father's name, even their mother's name, who was a true-born Parisian, but they just didn't have the wealth to back it up.

Her brother found work through delivering milk and mail while Annabelle, well, she had tried to find work through caring for the sick or maybe sewing new clothes for anyone who needed or wanted it, yet that had failed.

It wasn't long before her brother realized that men flocked to Annabelle's side during the events that they had to show face. They gave her money to go to the powder room. They gave her money to buy herself flowers. They gave her money to buy a perfume they thought would be perfect for her. They gave her money to think about their marriage proposal.

That's when her brother decided that his sister's beauty would be their saving grace.

Annabelle had always been told she was beautiful since she was old enough to understand the word itself.

Long, cascading dark brown waves, smooth, pale skin, and large blue doe-eyed eyes, Annabelle caught every man's attention by simply walking past them.

Yet, all Annabelle ever wanted to do was go back to Paris. To the days of her running in her mother's rose garden, laughing, as she felt her brother's warm hand as he pulled her and the sound of her parent's voices behind them.

Simpler times.

She missed the convent even. The dim candle she had lit to read a book on her lap as everyone slept, cramped in the dormitory.

It helped her forget missing, sometimes. When the suitors would fall at her feet and fawn over her, Annabelle did sometimes have a spark of pride rise within her and she had to remind herself about the humility she was taught in the convent to keep her head in the real world.

Besides, the men didn't love her for her. They loved her because she was Belle, the literal figure of what the belle of a ball was.

Annabelle sighed as she set her hairbrush aside, her head aching from her rough actions moments earlier.

She got into her bed in her large room, and she stared at the ceiling, trying to get sleep come to her, yet all she could think about was the empty room and the empty feeling inside her heart.

* * *

A:N/ Hope you enjoyed!

I do have a tumblr: .com.


	2. Chapter 2

A:N/ Thank you for your review, Jane St. Valentine! Also, thanks for the tip!

* * *

Another night, another party.

Annabelle made sure that her corset was tight as she left the powder room. She knew that she almost had that Commander David Lee at the palm of her hand. He already gave her about ten dollars for the powder room, and she only had to use a dollar. She sighed and slightly winced at the sound of her brother's scolding her in her mind, but she brushed it off as she went back outside to the loud noises and music.

She was trying to make her way through the crowd when a sudden man groped her from behind. Annabelle mentally prepared herself as she turned around to try and flirtatiously warn the man not to touch her, but the man was starting to get… _ambitious._

She was starting to lose her smile as she struggled against the man until she stepped on his foot. The man cursed at her as he let her go, and she ran out of the venue, forgetting the fact that the Commander was looking for her.

As she reached outside the venue, she began to gasp for air. It wasn't long before the tears followed and she began to sob quietly as she placed a hand on her chest to calm herself down.

She took a moment before gathering her bearings and walking back towards the venue, hoping that the Commander's attentions wouldn't be elsewhere.

* * *

The Commander moved on to a busty blonde, and Annabelle silently reprimanded herself as she turned to walk towards an empty table.

She sat down, and she pulled the cash from inside her dress and counted it.

She was short.

Her brother was going to be angry.

She sighed, and she laid her head against the wooden wall next to her.

She closed her eyes for just a moment, losing herself in the slow music that suddenly started to play. She was immediately taken back to Paris, to when her mother used to sing lullabies and her father would brush her hair.

She began to sing softly as she smiled at the bittersweet memories that filled her mind.

A handkerchief was being offered to her, and Annabelle looked up in surprise.

She was greeted by a shy-looking young man, who didn't seem that much older than her. He barely had any facial hair on him, and his Army uniform was new looking compared to the Commanders and other high-ranking officials. He was a low-class army man, probably a recruit. He had a nice, square jaw and high cheekbones that marked him as handsome. A little boyish, but handsome nonetheless. Yet, what caught her attention was his kind green eyes.

She accepted the handkerchief, gently.

"Are you okay, Miss?" His voice was soft, and Annabelle appreciated the tone of his voice. It wasn't gruff like the others nor obnoxious like the drunkards.

Annabelle smiled softly at him, and she could see that she must be attractive to him because he flushed slightly and looked away for just a mere second.

"I didn't realize I had been crying. Thank you." Annabelle thanked.

The young man nodded, quickly, and he even looked away in respect as Annabelle dabbed her face as she checked her reflection through a reflective surface next to the table.

"You must be new." Annabelle offered, still dabbing away at her face.

"I'm sorry?" The young man asked, a bit taken aback.

Annabelle couldn't help but smile at his shyness.

"Your uniform. I notice that it's not like others who have been around longer." Annabelle motioned towards him.

"Oh, yes." He replied, sheepishly.

Annabelle laughed, "No need to be ashamed. I think it's rather brave of you."

Much to what she suspected, the man flushed and she smiled even wider, amused.

"Well, I must be going. Thank you for your kindness." Annabelle stated, getting up.

She nodded towards him, and before she could even take a step, he said something that made her pause.

"You have a beautiful voice."

Annabelle felt her heart clench at that, and she couldn't help but smile as she turned to face him.

"And you have a kind soul."

With that said, Annabelle turned back around and left the venue, feeling better than she's ever been for such a long time.

* * *

Annabelle sighed as she turned around during the dance and faced the wall for just a moment. She placed the smile on her face that she had perfected as the soldier brought her back in his arms.

When the song ended, she was more than grateful to return into the shadows of the venue to take a breather.

She sat down at the bar, noticing that it was empty in one side as women flocked to where the soldiers were.

She was gaining competition, but she didn't falter. She knew that men loved challenging women, and she was the one that didn't offer her assets as quickly as these women were doing.

She didn't want to judge and she didn't want to pride herself in that, but of course, here she was being the biggest hypocrite of them all.

She ordered a drink from the bartender.

She didn't care if her brother would yell at her for wasting money.

She earned it, so she deserved it. Too bad that the drink became three.

"Hello, Miss." A voice greeted her as she took the first sip of her third drink.

She turned to her side, and she couldn't help but laugh.

It was the young man with the kind green eyes.

"Well, hello." She greeted with a salute of her glass. The young man smiled, and it warmed Annabelle's heart how…genuine it seemed. That or she was obviously starting to feel the effect of the alcohol.

"No more tears, I see." The young man stated, motioning towards her face, awkwardly.

"I switched to drinking it away." Annabelle replied, cheekily.

That seemed to make the young man widen his eyes slightly, but his smile was still on his face.

"Are you enjoying your night this time?" The young man asked her.

"Since it involves pain-numbing beverages, I assure you that I am." Annabelle giggled.

She enjoyed watching the young man next to her fidget a little, but she wanted to make sure he didn't feel worried around her so she placed a reassuring hand on his fidgeting ones, which made him still.

"I'm sorry, it seems that I've drunken a bit too much. If I seem unkind or forward, I apologize." Annabelle said, softly.

It was the young man's turn to chuckle after a moment.

"It's refreshing, Miss. Where I come from, women can handle their alcohol far better than the men. Yet, here, I'm sure that women don't even touch it. You seem unafraid." The young man stated, patting her hand, gently.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow at him, and the young man seemed to remember what he was doing and he sheepishly took his hand away.

"Is it that much different in America?" Annabelle asked, changing the subject to get the young man comfortable in her presence as she smiled in her glass.

"In my area, yes. London seems a bit…secretive."

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all. It has a certain charm."

"Charm." Annabelle mused, remembering her argument with her brother. She frowned after a moment.

"I'm sorry if I offended you about your hometown, Miss. I assure you—"

"I'm not from here." Annabelle interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"Oh, if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Annabelle laughed as she cocked her head to the side as she stared at the young man, "Such a forward man you are."

The young man flushed.

Annabelle got up and she placed something before him, which surprised the young man.

"Thank you for the handkerchief." Annabelle whispered, softly, before starting to walk away.

After two steps, Annabelle turned around and she noticed that the young man had been staring at her.

"I was born in Paris, Mr…?"

"DeWitt. Booker DeWitt." The young man answered, the smile on his face starting to grow.

"Charmed, Mr. DeWitt." Annabelle stated, teasingly.

Annabelle turned around and began to walk once more.

"And yours, Miss?" She could hear his voice call out to her.

She didn't even bother to turn around as she answered him.

"Annabelle. Annabelle Watson."

She hid her smile behind her hand as she could hear him whisper her name to himself.

* * *

A:N/ Here's an update!


	3. Chapter 3

A:N/ I'm into this story. I love Annabelle.

* * *

Annabelle watched as her brother laughed and talked with Army officers in their large Estate. Her brother wore that same suit that seemed new, yet she knew better.

She knew it was the only one he owned.

She looked around and she could see that none of them knew how broke they were. How much in debt they were. How pitiful they were.

Sometimes, as much as she hated to admit it, Annabelle knew that her beauty had to do with it. If any man had a suspicion or inkling of her family status, they would brush it away as soon as they were captivated by her.

Her brother would use that to his advantage to receive gifts from her suitors as they vied for her hand in marriage.

Marriage.

Her brother had spoken to her about the issue moments before the party, and her voice was still a bit sore from her screaming at her brother.

He accepted a marriage proposal for her, one he assured her that would get rid of the debt for good.

Commander Lucas Scott wanted her, and he offered an enormous amount of money as his dowry. Annabelle hadn't felt at a lost since she had found out about her brother's trickery.

"You can't do this to me, brother." Annabelle pleaded, softly, after he voice turned hoarse after crying and begging her brother to rethink.

"Grow up, dear Belle. Don't be selfish like I was. You are our saving grace; do you not understand? Have the nuns not taught you that everything happens in His will. God is blessing us, sister. Especially you."

Annabelle didn't have the heart to fight at that point.

Now, here she was. Beautified outside, heartbroken inside.

Commander Lucas Scott called for her, and she could see his beaming, attractive smile as he motioned for her.

He was indeed an attractive man. Women wanted his attention, and men followed his command. He was kind, yet Annabelle didn't know how truly kind he was. Or how many women he had spent the night with.

Annabelle forced a smile as soon as she saw her brother's glance in her direction, and she walked towards the Commander.

The Commander circled a muscular arm around her waist, and Annabelle felt it like a snake coiling itself around her.

"You look wonderful tonight, my dear." He whispered in her ear, and Annabelle giggled at that, trying very hard not to inch away from him.

"Thank you, Commander." Annabelle forced out, softly.

Much to her relief, Annabelle watched as the Commander talked to the men around him, and she could feel their gazes on her. She could see their eyes filled with betrayal and jealousy. These were men she had shamefully took money from and made them believe that they had a chance with her.

She quickly excused herself after placing a much-forced quick kiss on the Commander's cheek, much to his surprise and happiness, which made her feel even more horrible.

She escaped onto the balcony and she could feel the bile rising in her throat and she threw up a bit. That's when she felt a hand on her back, trying to soothe her.

She turned around, and she couldn't help but cry and laugh as soon as she saw who it was.

She accepted the offered handkerchief, and she wiped her mouth. He led her to the sitting area, and she gratefully accepted his help. Once they were seated, Annabelle sighed.

"We keep meeting in such embarrassing coincidences, Mr. DeWitt."

Mr. DeWitt smiled at her, and she could see the concern in his eyes as he regarded her.

"Is everything alright, Miss Watson?" He asked her, and Annabelle took a moment before she shook her head.

"…Tell me about that place, Mr. DeWitt. The place where women hold their alcohol better than men. Do they also choose their own fate?" Annabelle whispered.

He took a moment to answer, and Annabelle could tell that he was trying to be careful with his answer, yet she noticed that he seemed to relax when she asked him to talk about his home.

"Well, it's a small town, really. It's a place where everyone knows each other, offers help or have small spats, but it's similar to a type of dysfunctional family, if you will. Everyone's at church on Sundays. If you're not, everyone will think you're dead or a straight up sinner. There's one store of each kind: the butcher, the baker, and the rest of them. Simple folk, but they have kind hearts."

"Such as you?" Annabelle asked, smiling as she noticed the warmness in his eyes and voice as he spoke.

Mr. DeWitt sheepishly scratched the back of his head before answering, "Maybe."

"You don't think yourself kind? You helped a hysterical, strange woman more than once." Annabelle teased.

Mr. DeWitt simply shrugged, but he looked at her, motioning for her in question.

"And, what about you? You said you were born in Paris. What got you here in London?" Mr. DeWitt asked, hesitantly.

Annabelle was about to tease him about his forwardness, but the look in his eye made her pause before she tucked a hair behind her ear and answered him.

"You really must be new, Mr. DeWitt." Annabelle mused, "My brother, that man who's standing next to Commander Lucas Scott, and I own this Estate. My father was Sir Emery Watson, yes, the explorer."

Annabelle bit her lip, knowing fully well she had hid a huge part of the truth, but this young man wasn't a priest. He didn't need to know her situation.

He was kind, but she was protective and no one needed to know but her.

Mr. DeWitt whistled low at that, and Annabelle smiled at how comfortable he seemed to be getting.

"You left Paris at a young age?"

"Yes."

"Why is that?"

"My parents passed away. My mother had no relatives left." Annabelle stated, simply.

"I'm sorry, Miss Watson." Mr. DeWitt quickly apologized.

Annabelle smiled, assuredly, at him.

"Life can be sometimes cruel." Annabelle shrugged.

"Does that also have to do with your engagement to Commander Scott?"

That took Annabelle aback, and she widened her eyes at the man beside her.

Mr. DeWitt had the audacity to flush and look down at the ground, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I apologize, Miss Watson."

Annabelle didn't say anything as she stared at her hands on her lap, prim and proper.

"Don't apologize, Mr. DeWitt. It seems that my acting skills aren't up to par." Annabelle offered, wryly.

"…He seems like a good man." Mr. DeWitt offered, lamely.

"Seems. Such a simple word with such a deeper meaning." Annabelle chuckled, dryly, "He does indeed seem like a good man, but how am I to know when rumors circulate about his many nights with many women."

Mr. DeWitt grimaced at that, and Annabelle sighed as she settled in her seat, staring at the darkening sky.

"Then why marry him?" Mr. DeWitt suddenly asked.

"Your upbringing is surely showing itself tonight, Mr. DeWitt," Annabelle couldn't help but laugh, "Let me ask you this, Mr. DeWitt, why join the Army?"

Mr. DeWitt seemed to take her question seriously as he nodded and played with his hands.

"Duty." Mr. DeWitt finally answered.

Annabelle nodded at that, feeling her heart clench at that word.

"Such a dreadful word, but it's something we all hold dear, isn't it?" Annabelle teased, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him.

Mr. DeWitt didn't press her for the meaning of her words, and Annabelle was grateful.

"I heard that you men are leaving soon for America." Annabelle offered, not liking the silence that blanketed over them.

Mr. DeWitt nodded, and she noticed that he was still fidgeting with his hands.

"We're going to war soon. With the Natives. So, they're letting us visit family before we go." Mr. DeWitt confirmed.

"Are you happy that you get to go home?" Annabelle asked, trying to hide the fact that she was envious of him.

Mr. DeWitt smiled at that, but she noticed it was a bit sarcastic and wry.

"You could say that."

Annabelle didn't push any further because she saw her brother enter the balcony. He turned towards her, and he noticed that the dark look on his face disappeared as soon as he saw that she had company. A charming smile was on his face, and she noticed that Mr. DeWitt wasn't fooled as he clenched his jaw.

"There you are, Belle. Your intended is looking for you." Her brother informed her.

Annabelle nodded, after swallowing, "I will be there in a minute."

Her brother didn't move.

"I suggest you move now, Belle. He's getting a bit impatient."

Annabelle ignored the warning tone in her brother's voice and she faced Mr. DeWitt, offering him his handkerchief.

"Thank you for your company, Mr. DeWitt. I hope you make it home safely. Your kindness and charm should be rewarded." Annabelle stated, with a warm smile.

She got up, immediately, and slipped her arm around her brothers offered one, disappearing inside the Estate.

* * *

Annabelle tried to smile as the men and women congratulated her as they left in high spirits.

"We look forward to the wedding, Belle." One of the women had whispered before kissing her cheek and leaving.

Annabelle didn't even know her name.

The commander was more than willing to shower his affection on her, but Annabelle managed to avoid him until she had to say goodbye to him.

"I shall see you in the morrow, my dear." He whispered against her cheek, wetly.

Annabelle simply smiled and nodded, wishing him goodnight.

As everyone left and Annabelle began to walk upstairs to her room, she was stopped by her brother.

"Who was that young man you were with?" Her brother asked, his tone sharp.

"A simple young man who noticed that I was throwing up. He was kind enough to help me out. Nothing more, brother."

Her brother scoffed, and he crossed his arms in warning.

"You must be careful from now on, Belle. We can't have people gossiping about you already wandering."

Annabelle didn't even bother to answer her brother as she tiredly wished him a goodnight.

* * *

Annabelle stared at the family portrait in her locket as she tried to find sleep. Tears began to leak and fall as she traced the outline of her parents and her once good older brother.

She decided to do something she hadn't done in such a long time.

She knelt beside her bed and began to pray.

After she did what she remembered what she was taught in the convent, she turned to her side and she noticed that God answered her prayer right then and there.

* * *

The docks were just as busy as she imagined they'd be.

It was dirty and loud, and Annabelle wasn't used to such loud cursing as she tried to find her destination. That's when she spotted what she was looking for.

She grabbed her bag and she began to run towards the direction she hoped was right.

There!

She dropped her bag, and she cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed, "Mr. DeWitt!"

The handsome uniformed man turned around to look in her direction.

The shock on his face made Annabelle smile as she grabbed her bag and walked towards him, happily.

"I forgot to give you your handkerchief." Annabelle stated, out of breath, offering the fabric to him.

Mr. DeWitt didn't even say anything as he stared at her with wide eyes. He even looked around, confused and worried.

"Miss Watson, what are you— "

"Now that I've returned something of yours. Don't you give me a favor in return?" Annabelle asked, cutting him off.

Mr. DeWitt just dumbly shrugged and nodded, not sure where this conversation was going.

"Take me to America with you. Help me get away from here." Annabelle stated, adamantly.

If Mr. DeWitt could look any more shocked, it would make Annabelle even surprised.

"Miss Watson…what about— "

"No more questions. Let's get on the ship." Annabelle ordered, and before she or Mr. DeWitt knew it, they were onboard and on their way to America.

* * *

A:N/ Here's another one!


	4. Chapter 4

A:N/ Here you go!

* * *

The open air had never felt so wonderful as she took a deep breath.

The excited chatter around her as people conversed on the deck made Annabelle warm inside. Something she hadn't felt in such a long time. She could hear the birds cry as they flew above the ship, signaling that they were close to land. It had been a couple of days on the ship, and Annabelle had bouts of seasickness from time to time.

Mr. DeWitt had been quiet most of the times. He had immediately offered his room to her just so she had a place to stay. She had questioned him on where he would stay, but he was adamant on not letting her worry about it.

He may be shy, but Annabelle knew that Mr. DeWitt was a mysterious man when it came to deeper subjects.

For example, he must think her interesting as they both stood on the deck, looking at the sky.

Annabelle could tell that Booker's gaze was on her as she leaned against the railing as the ship sailed. There were people around them on the deck, but Annabelle was focused on trying not to get any attention on her. If anyone found out who she was, she would be in big trouble.

"I know you have questions, Mr. DeWitt, but I assure you that I'm not in some sort of trouble. I just needed a change of pace, that's all." Annabelle reassured the man, placing a gentle hand on his arm as he stared at her, questioningly.

Mr. DeWitt didn't say anything as he kept on staring blankly at her, and Annabelle watched as he gently pushed her hand away as he leaned on the railing and folded his hands. He sighed, and he ran a hand through his auburn hair.

"Miss Watson, I hope you know what you're doing. Do you have a plan once we land?" Mr. DeWitt finally asked, facing her.

Annabelle nodded, slowly, remembering that she had been thinking about what her plan was as soon as she got on the ship.

But before she could say anything, a soldier patted Mr. DeWitt on his back, and Annabelle immediately looked at the water, trying very hard to hide her face under the hat she had been wearing.

"DeWitt! We're just about to start another game of poker. How about joining us?" The soldier asked, heartily.

"Ah, no thanks, Dave. I'm going to dinner soon, and poker would just be a distraction at this point." Mr. DeWitt replied, with a chuckle.

"Oh? Dinner with this lady friend of yours, I assume?" The soldier teased, and before she knew it, the soldier was trying to get a good look of her face.

"A shy one, aren't you?" The soldier mused as Annabelle still had her head bowed as she tried to mask her anxiety with soft giggles.

Annabelle made the mistake of looking up a bit, and she could see the soldier's face grow confused.

"Have we met before, Miss?" The soldier asked.

The dinner bell began to ring, and Annabelle was saved as Mr. DeWitt quickly excused themselves, leaving the confused soldier on the deck.

"That was a close one." Mr. DeWitt said through gritted teeth as they were saved by the crowd forming as the all entered the dinner hall.

The image of the soldier's confused face was still in Annabelle's mind as she took a deep breath, "Let's go to dinner, shall we?"

* * *

Annabelle raised an eyebrow as she noticed that Mr. DeWitt seemed to be a bit uneasy when she forced him to sit with her at a formal table.

"Miss Watson, I— "

"Sit, Mr. DeWitt. It's my treat tonight. It's a part of my thank you for helping me out so far." Annabelle reassured the man with a small smile as she thanked the waiter for giving them their menus.

"What about when you land?" Mr. DeWitt asked, bringing back the attention to his earlier question.

Annabelle shrugged as she looked at the menu, "I'll figure it out. Besides, I have enough money to take care of myself."

Mr. DeWitt looked at her with concern and he began to fidget with his silverware. Annabelle didn't push him on the subject as the waiter came by to their order. After that was done, Annabelle placed a hand over his in reassurance.

"Whatever it is that you want to tell me, you can, Mr. DeWitt. I believe we're now pass the whole politeness stage if you ask me." Annabelle teased.

Mr. DeWitt looked up at her, and Annabelle was taken aback slightly by the look in those usual kind green eyes.

She withdrew her hand before she knew what she was doing herself.

There was a certain intenseness that Anabelle saw that she wasn't used to seeing when it came to the usual timid man.

"You can come with me. My hometown is small and quaint. They don't usually get news there, so you'll be safe. I can help you get set up, and…I just want to make sure you're going to be fine, Miss Watson. I won't question what you're trying to do, but it'll ease my soul I could help a bit." Mr. DeWitt answered, his tone soft yet earnest.

Annabelle couldn't help but smile widely after a moment of shocked surprise.

"You really are kind, Mr. DeWitt. I would love your help." Annabelle accepted, graciously.

The waiter came around with their food and wine. Annabelle couldn't help but smile at Mr. DeWitt's scrunched up reaction to the wine.

"You're not used to wine, I assume?" Annabelle asked him.

Mr. DeWitt picked up his glass in distaste as he looked at the liquid.

"I'm used to…stronger tastes."

Annabelle's laughed and for once, it felt real.

* * *

Mr. DeWitt walked her back to his room, the one he had offered her days ago, and Annabelle smiled as he wished her a goodnight. Before she closed the door, she called out to him. He turned around and Annabelle noticed how there was a small, shy smile on his face and that made her feel a little safer than she had felt in years.

"Thank you, Mr. DeWitt."

Mr. DeWitt's smile grew just a little more and he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Annabelle closed her door, softly and she walked away to get ready for bed. That's until she started to hear loud voices through the thin wall.

She walked back towards the door and she pressed her ear against it. She could make out Mr. DeWitt's voice, but she couldn't make out the other voice. She opened her door, slowly and gently, and that's when she could finally make out the conversation.

"DeWitt, are you insane? You do know who that woman is. That's our Commander's _betrothed._ Do you already want to mess up when you're finally already in the Army?" Someone asked. Annabelle realized it was that soldier who had noticed them earlier, the one named Dave.

"Dave, I can't just ignore her. We're…acquaintances. Besides, she came to me for help. Isn't that our duty? To help— "

"Oh, please. DeWitt, we don't help people. We kill people. We're soldiers, not caretakers. I don't want your ass on risky waters. Find a way to rid yourself of this problem before the papers and gossip get wind of who is on this boat."

Annabelle could hear some shuffling, and she knew it was them walking away. She shut her door, softly, and she slid down onto the floor as she contemplated the soldier's words to DeWitt.

Dave was right.

If anyone caught her, she wouldn't be the only one in massive trouble. Mr. DeWitt would be as well. Kind, sweet man that he was and Annabelle couldn't do that to him.

With a heavy heart and wistful sighing, Annabelle rummaged in the desk provided in the room and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.

She began to write.

* * *

The ship had landed, and Annabelle felt slightly off-balanced as she took her first step on land.

America.

She tried her best not to look behind her. She left Mr. DeWitt a note, and she hoped he understood. He was going to get in trouble if she had stayed, and she wasn't about to ruin someone's life all because of her selfishness. Besides, Mr. DeWitt was a man who deserved to enjoy his rest before he rode off into war.

She couldn't help but be bittersweet about it. She had thought him a kind friend, and she hoped all the best for him.

The docks were right next to the place called New York City, and Annabelle had remembered the soldiers talking about how great and loud the city was. Yet, Annabelle wasn't even sure where to go to even enter the city. She had instead opted for trying to get a job maybe around the docks and finding some sort of lodging before she made steps to doing…well, anything.

She had never been _free_ before.

She had been told what to do since she was a child, so having freedom was…liberating.

Annabelle sighed in happiness at the thought of it. She hadn't realized that she was free to do what she wanted. She was so enwrapped with trying to get away from her life that she hadn't realized that she just gained her life back.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she realized that everyone was now flocking to get off the ship, so Annabelle scurried to get out of sight. She came across a lodging place, and she walked inside in awe.

She noticed an old woman looking at her warily.

"Hello, I'm looking for a place to stay. I have money if that's what you require." Annabelle stated, coming up to the woman and showing her how much she had.

The straight-faced woman looked Annabelle up and down before nodding with a grunt as she accepted the money and counted.

"Find work, Miss. This money won't last you. I'll give you a week to find work. If you don't, I'm kicking you out of here." The woman finally stated.

Annabelle winced, inwardly at the woman's gruffness, but she nodded, obediently, before letting the woman show where she was going to stay.

* * *

"I assure you that-"

"Look, Miss, you're pretty and I bet you have a good head on your shoulders, but I don't have any work for you here. I'm barely surviving by just hiring a delivery boy. I'm sorry."

Annabelle nodded at the robust man, and she bowed her head as she walked away, a bit defeated.

The week was almost up.

Annabelle had thought she would be able to come up with some work. The convent had taught her to basic stuff, yet it wasn't good enough for her to try and find work in America. She had been learning it the hard way when every door slammed in her face. The old woman was also starting to get impatient, even scoffing at Annabelle when she had pleaded for another week.

Annabelle felt her stomach growl, and she moaned, softly. She had sold her jewelry to have money for food, but that also was gone and Annabelle only had the clothes on her back at this point.

She had nothing.

With a tired sigh, Annabelle felt her vision getting blurry as she sat down on a bench. Tears fell on her face as she felt her body grow weary.

It wasn't long before everything went black.

* * *

The smell of incense and rosewater filled Annabelle's nose as she woke up groggily.

"Where am I?" She managed to ask as she tried to look around. She was greeted by a very pretty face as the woman's red lips formed into a smile.

"Good morning, darling. It's good that you're up, I was beginning to worry. The doctor told us that you we would need to take drastic measures of trying to get food in your system if you didn't wake up."

Annabelle noticed that she had been sleeping on some luxurious chair in a dark corner as she made sense of her surroundings. The place was dimly lit and Annabelle found it reminiscent

"You're in a place where mystery is enticing, my dear. My, my, my, you are a pretty one. We could definitely use someone like you in this place." The woman clucked her tongue in appreciation.

"Place of mystery…" Annabelle whispered, trying to figure out what this woman was alluding to.

That's when she slowly sat up and noticed that there were men, well-groomed all the way to dirtied boots, sitting around smoking their cigars and drinking their alcohol as women paraded themselves in front of them, sitting on their laps or giggling as the men whispered in their ears.

That's when Annabelle spotted a practically half-naked woman whispering in a man's ear as they walked past them and into a dark room.

Annabelle swallowed.

Oh, she knew exactly where she was.

"Darling, here's some food. Please eat before you pass out again." The woman caught her attention by placing a plate of food before her.

Annabelle began to eat the food, thankfully. Once she was done after accepting graciously the glass of water handed to her, Annabelle noticed that the pretty woman was staring at her, in wonderment.

"One of my girls found you knocked out on a bench, barely breathing. It's been two days since." The woman informed her after a moment.

Annabelle sighed, softly, "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble."

The woman raised an eyebrow at her, "You have a weird accent. Sounds British, but at the same time, it doesn't."

Annabelle shrugged, "I was born in France, but I grew up in London."

The woman's smile grew a bit as she tilted her head to the side. Annabelle examined the woman before her. She was blonde and curvy, judging by how tight her corset was laced. She had wonderful hazel eyes that were wide yet narrowed in such a way that would get anyone's attention. She was a real beauty.

"What is your name, dear?" The woman asked her.

"…Belle." Annabelle answered her, unsure.

"Well, Belle, my name is Vanessa Love. And I have a proposition for you." The woman greeted, grabbing Annabelle's hand and began to examine her like she was a horse.

Annabelle nodded, not sure what the woman was going to tell her.

"Judging by how skinny you are and the paleness of your skin, you have been starving and not getting any proper rest. I can offer you a job. Here." Vanessa told her, dropping Annabelle's arm and smiling.

"But, I don't…I'm sorry, I don't— "

"Sell your body for sex? Oh, darling, most of these girls didn't do that before either. Yet, the world is cruel, is it not, darling? I'm sure you wouldn't have been sleeping on that bench if it wasn't." Vanessa sighed as she reached over to smooth Annabelle's hair.

Annabelle couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked around and tried to see herself in a place like this and she looked at Vanessa, who was still being nice as she smiled at her.

"I take care of my girls, Belle. Trust me. I'll teach you how to control your life even when you feel like you're sacrificing." Vanessa assured her.

As Annabelle nodded, slowly, and Vanessa pulled her into a hug, Annabelle couldn't help but think of what her brother said about using her assets which seemed like ages ago.

 _Curse you, brother. For being right. Curse you._

* * *

A:N/ Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

A:N/ I watched BioShock lore videos and I'm a mess.

* * *

 **New York City, By the Docks, 1890**

Annabelle sat up, slowly, her underthings barely hanging onto her shoulders as she felt her long, brown hair cascade down her shoulders. She could feel her bed weigh down on the other side as she heard short grunts and a heavy sigh.

She didn't even bother to look back as she heard coins clink on the bed as her door slammed shut.

Once she knew she was alone, she turned around to see the money she earned for what seemed like such a long time of that man's sweaty body and rancid breath on her face.

Annabelle scoffed, as she picked up the amount.

He had overpaid.

It may have been pity that made him do it.

She was told constantly by men who had picked her to spend the night with that she didn't look like she belonged in such a place. They had visited often, and most of them became regulars which Vanessa had taken to her advantage to charge more from the men.

Annabelle couldn't even dare to feel bad anymore.

They had grown insistent on seeing her, offering her new clothes and perfumes that Annabelle was sure that the other girls had grown envious and wistful which made Annabelle even more disgusted.

That's when one of them finally had the audacity to suggest marrying him. He had claimed he was rich and that he could take care of her, but Annabelle responded by staring at him, blankly, before laughing in his face.

It was a sad, disgusting laugh that had the poor man's face in shock.

He threw his offered ring at her, claiming that was the only expensive thing she'll ever have in her worthless life.

Yet, Annabelle had given the ring to one of the girls who eyed it.

Annabelle didn't want it. Nor did she want anyone's pity.

She never asked to be saved from them, and so what did they want from her? Of course, her pretty face and her body. That's what everyone had used her for. Her brother, Vanessa, and these men; Annabelle felt as if she didn't even belong in her body. She just felt like an observer, a cruel one at that.

No one was ever kind to her because they wanted to be, and Annabelle didn't care to look for that sort of caring anymore. She had given up everything to help her brother, and here she was.

There had been one man that had been kind to her that one year ago when everything had seemed possible.

Annabelle laughed as she pulled out a cigarette from her beaten up bedside table. She didn't think twice when she lit it up and inhaled, losing herself until the next poor customer came along.

* * *

Men called her different names and Anabelle knew that they were imagining she was someone else.

Men grabbed her hair and liked to imagine that she liked it.

Men liked to place soft kisses on her, thinking that maybe her stoic face would change.

Men got off on the fact that she was so emotionless sometimes.

Annabelle didn't get why people pitied prostitutes.

She pitied the men who needed to pretend.

* * *

Annabelle soothed one of the girls as she cried out as Annabelle worked in her womb.

She was again in one of the girl's rooms, being asked by Vanessa to perform another abortion due to the girl's lack of wit.

"You should have thought twice when you thought that man could pull out of you, Marissa." Vanessa scolded the crying girl.

Annabelle didn't say anything as she nodded at Vanessa, confirming that the deed was done.

Marissa had also stopped crying after a moment, and she whimpered her thanks to Annabelle, but Annabelle could only smile at the girl, reassuringly, while patting her hand.

These girls needed doctors, not a girl who learned most of her medical training at a convent.

They needed someone who was professionally trained, yet...Annabelle felt Marissa's hand on hers, and Annabelle knew that these girls needed her as much as she needed them.

* * *

"Belle, tomorrow's going to be a busy night. I overheard around the marketplace that a bunch of soldiers are coming by before they board on a ship to sail wherever they need to go." Vanessa told her one night as she counted the money that Annabelle handed to her.

It was a hot night, and Annabelle sighed, softly, as she pulled her hair up, looking at the bruises the earlier customer had placed upon her neck.

Annabelle rolled her eyes. Men also got greedy when they wanted to.

"Soldiers, huh." Annabelle mused as she touched the necklace that she was gifted earlier that night.

She could see Vanessa smile at her through the mirror.

"Another gift, darling? You are very popular. Even though you've rejected half of them when they offered you their hand in marriage." Vanessa mused, laughingly.

Annabelle shrugged, her hand falling back down on the vanity as she fondled with one of the earrings on there.

"I never asked nor did I want them to." Annabelle stated, nonchalantly.

Vanessa didn't say anything for a moment as she focused on counting the money. With a satisfied sigh, Vanessa got up, "Well, whatever it is you're doing, my sly Belle, keep doing it. You are making me a profit."

With that said, Vanessa took her leave, and Annabelle took off the heavy necklace that suddenly felt like a noose.

* * *

Soldiers were…loud.

Annabelle watched as they laughed, brashly, and grabbed any woman that happened to walk in front of them. Annabelle was thankful that Vanessa had her on private duty.

"You're my special one, Belle. I'm sure the soldiers have heard about Belle the Beauty. If one of them is worth my while, I'll send him your way." Vanessa stated, pointing at her. Annabelle just nodded, and she sighed when she noticed some girls give her some envious looks and wistful looks.

Annabelle didn't get why they wanted to be her, but then again, the world was cruel. She had learned it firsthand.

No matter where she went or who she obeyed, she was stuck in a cage that she had fashioned herself, no matter how many times she tried to pretty it up.

Annabelle leaned against the railing as she watched the festivities downstairs. It's not that she wanted to be down there; she just wanted to feel like she wasn't alone, no matter how sickening it was.

It was better than being alone in her cold, dark room that she had shared with so many dark souls.

"Hey, Belle." A girl had greeted her, and Annabelle looked to the side and she noticed one of the girls was leading a very drunk and happy soldier to her room.

Annabelle offered the girl a reassuring smile, "Enjoy yourself."

The girl, who shared a look with the soldier, gave Annabelle a reassuring smile of her own, "I'm sure I'll be able to enjoy this one."

That line had always been code for Annabelle and the others. That had meant that there was no need to worry because the customer seemed harmless, and inwardly, that had made Annabelle not worried whenever a girl had a customer. Yet, when the line wasn't uttered. Vanessa had to grab the unruly customer and demand him to leave. Sometimes, other girls were tricked into thinking that they would be safe.

Annabelle closed her eyes and remembered her first experience with such a sly customer.

She tried to calm down, and it worked, yet when she opened her eyes, she noticed that Vanessa was motioning for her to come downstairs.

Squaring her shoulders, Annabelle got up and made her way downstairs, pasting that dazzling smile every man seemed to love.

It was time to be the Belle of the night once more.

* * *

The first thing Annabelle noticed was that a flock of girls seemed to surround someone while Vanessa politely waited for her in front of the group.

Vanessa grabbed Annabelle by the waist to lead her through the group of girls, waving her hand at them as she talked to Annabelle.

"There you are, darling. There's a man who seems very specific with what he wanted tonight. And you should be flattered. He's an established soldier. Apparently, he made quite a name for himself at the last battle that this Calvary was in. Some battle in Wounded Knee? You've got to forgive me, I don't really understand most of these wars, Mr. DeWitt."

That name got Annabelle to pause as she looked up in shock.

Surrounded by girls and whiskey, it was the only man Annabelle had thought to keep her memories pure of anything right about this world.

There he was. But, wait…was it really him? Annabelle's memory of Mr. Booker DeWitt was a young man who was kind and quiet. He had been gentle and caring when he dealt with her, so why was a man like him here?

Annabelle wanted to scoff and cry and tear her hair. Of course, everyone was the same. Every man was the same. They wanted one thing, and they go to certain places to get it.

His appearance had changed, too. Instead of the sweet baby face that Annabelle had remembered, his face was sterner and sharper. He had scars, understandable for every soldier. His eyes, those green eyes, were now narrowed and cold. He had facial stubble and tanner skin. Annabelle could hardly believe that she had known this man a long time ago.

Annabelle didn't dare and try to show any sign of remembrance as she walked up to him, yet when she got closer, she could see his face grow still and his jaw clench.

Oh, he remembered her.

"Hello there, sir." Annabelle greeted, her voice practically dripping with sweetness that she managed to learn when it came to seducing customers, "My name is Belle. I'm honored to be in your presence tonight."

She could see the shock wash away as he realized that she now stood in front of him.

His face seemed to slowly crumble in askance as his cod demeanor washed away from his face. It seemed a slow moment passed by as Vanessa shooed the rest of the girls away and the once friends stared at each other; one who clutched onto his whiskey tightly and the other tilting her head to the side and making sure her cleavage was showing just so.

"…Miss Vanessa, I'll take this one." The gruff sounding voice that came out of his mouth surprised Annabelle as she couldn't recall his voice sounding like that ever.

Yet, in a moment, Annabelle found herself being led upstairs by Vanessa as the soldier followed from behind.

Vanessa leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Have fun with this one, darling. Most of these girls were really interested in this one. Apparently, since these group of soldiers have been traveling, they have also been visiting neighboring brothels. Most of them heard that this Mr. DeWitt is…most entertaining in bed. You can thank me later."

With a wink and a slight gesture of her hand, Vanessa excused herself as she ushered them in Annabelle's room and closed the door.

Annabelle ignored the man until she reached her bed, "Here, help me take this off."

Yet, she couldn't feel his presence and after a moment, she sighed and she turned around to face him. He stood there, leaning on one of the wooden pillars in the room, with his arms crossed, studying her.

"We can't get started if you don't undress me, love." Annabelle stated, a wry smile on her face.

That seemed to shake Mr. DeWitt out of his thoughts as he furrowed his brows even more.

"Miss Watson."

That name brought chills down her back as she froze and her blue eyes widened as she felt her heart stop for just a moment.

"There's no Miss Watson here, darling. My name is Belle." Annabelle whispered in warning, her eyes narrowing at him.

She can't have him blow her cover, and she was ready to fight him if necessary. She built a life here, no matter if she hated it or not. If she was kicked out of here, she'd be in deep trouble and she was not about to risk the haven she had managed to find in her wretched state.

"Your brother has been looking for you. I've only heard word about it since…well, whatever the case is—"

"My life is none of your concern. And how would you know if my brother is looking for me, he's in England. I—"

"He's here, Miss Watson. He's friends with Captain Slate, and he funded us when—"

"Funded? My brother has no money. I'm sure you have the wrong man." Annabelle scoffed, crossing her arms, wanting to just walk away from this conversation.

This man…yes, they had been friendly acquaintances once upon a time when she needed his help, but for him to come here and start this? It was all too much for her. She had ran away from this; she didn't want to be a part of it anymore.

"He's rich, Miss Watson. He acquired money from your…fiancé to find you. He came here to find you."

Those words chilled Annabelle as she realized what Mr. DeWitt was telling her.

She was being hunted. She was going to be forced to go back to England. She was going to be forced to marry that man she had thought she could escape from.

Everything began to spiral in her mind and Annabelle sat on her bed, clutching onto her chest.

"And I suppose you're here to take me to him? Is that it?" Annabelle finally managed to ask, looking up at him with a fierce gaze.

The man had the audacity to lift an eyebrow in surprise.

"You think I knew you were here? I haven't heard from you ever since you left that damn letter."

That took Annabelle aback as she noticed Mr. DeWitt's distasteful tone.

That's when she realized that she had been selfishly thinking about her problem when she was the one who had left his care without a word, other than that note.

"…I didn't want to get you in trouble." Annabelle finally stated, apologetically.

Mr. DeWiitt didn't seem to care as he shrugged it off and walked around the room.

"I didn't know you were here, Miss Watson. I just wanted to drink and relieve some tension like any other hard-working soldier would. You've changed."

The pity in his voice was there, and Annabelle glared at him, forgetting the niceness and warmness she had toward the man once upon a time.

How dare he walk into this room and pity her. She didn't need it. She managed to live without being a bloodthirsty killer who killed innocents, so what right did he have to judge her?

"So have you." Annabelle accused back, not wanting to be seen as some charity case.

"You're the one who thinks I'm working for your brother."

Annabelle scoffed at that, "Oh, excuse me for thinking that way since you asked for a woman with my appearance."

A silence passed and a cough from Mr. DeWitt broke it as she scratched the back of his head, sheepishly.

"Well, that was…coincidental." Mr. DeWitt explained, hurriedly.

Annabelle didn't seem to realize what he was saying, and that's when she blushed at the realization of what he was saying.

She shook her head, and she got up, her arms still crossed as she walked towards her window.

"Look…Mr. DeWiit. I'm sorry that we had to meet this way, but I thank you for your warning. If you want to do this, it's simple just like every woman you manage to sleep with, I suggest you get undressed so we can—"

"Miss Watson, enough." The harsh, bitter tone that Annabelle was still shocked at made her turn around and she flinched at the sight of his glaring at her.

"Like I said, I didn't expect to see you. And, if you think that you have every right to judge who I sleep with. Well, look who's talking." Mr. DeWitt stated, lowly.

Annabelle's eyes darkened as she looked at him, "Everyone has their battles, Mr. DeWitt, but if you think you can just walk in here and be comfortable with me—"

"Comfortable? Oh, Miss Watson, you're the one who had once come to me when you barely knew me. I think we're past the point of being strangers." Mr. DeWitt scoffed, shaking his head.

Annabelle was tired of this. Her memories of Mr. DeWitt were kind ones, yet this moment right here was killing all of them. She had held onto those memories, hoping that maybe one day she could reunite with him and receive the warmness and kindness he once showed her, yet time and war had changed him.

Same with her. And she wasn't going to take anything from him no more.

Annabelle faced him, angrily, "Listen, Mr. DeWitt, you being a soldier who can manage to kill without a second thought doesn't mean you have every right to talk to me the way you are. You pay me to sleep with you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, that's it. The Miss Watson you knew is no more, so just leave me alone. Better yet, just forget you ever knew me."

Mr. DeWitt paused at her words, and Annabelle saw the darkening of his gaze as he stared at her.

Annabelle was ready to make a run for it, but she was taken aback when she watched him sigh.

"Goodnight, Miss Watson."

With that said, Mr. DeWitt was the one who left first.

* * *

Yet, he never left with the soldiers as Annabelle had hoped. The first night he came back, Annabelle just thought he missed his ship and she didn't have to talk to him anyways if she busied herself with other customers. The second night, Annabelle had avoided him like the plague. Third night, Annabelle asked Vanessa what the deal was.

"He needed a job, so I offered him the job of a bodyguard. It's time that you girls need one, especially with the popularity this place has been getting."

Annabelle wanted to scream. And now, it's been three months since he's been onboard, helping the girls and Vanessa out.

He worked every night, ordering whiskey and entertaining the girls. Annabelle wanted to vomit every time Vanessa encouraged Mr. DeWitt to stay in one of the rooms. All Annabelle wanted was for him to leave her alone. It wasn't that he talked to her, quite the contrary. He ignored her and she him, yet she hated that even more because he was just a silent reminder of her past.

He represented a time in her life that she managed to get away from, yet here he was, making her remember the time she had once been a lady who didn't have to sell her body to make a living. She had been in her brother's cage, but at least it had been one she had managed to gain some sort of control in her life.

But, when it came down to it, Annabelle was just grateful that she was on her own, with no one bothering her about what she should do with her life, even if it was a life that she wouldn't have willingly chosen.

Annabelle had gritted her teeth when she heard that throaty chuckle that belonged to the asshole at the bar.

Oh, so he was nice to them, but he was rude to her?

Annabelle wanted to chuck a glass at that man's rugged smiling face.

He was handsome when he smiled and laughed. It annoyed her to her core when she would pass by and happened to see a moment here and there. The girls swooned over him, and when one managed to sleep with him, Annabelle had to hear them gush about how _great_ and _attentive_ he was in bed.

One time, Annabelle had managed to get drunk over how many times one of the girls squealed over him. It was a game that she invented called, "Mr. DeWitt-Fucks-A-Lot".

Vanessa had scolded her the next morning, but Annabelle was just glad that she got to stay in bed that day, which was why she found herself with no customers and no seeing Mr. DeWitt's face.

It was a day that Annabelle could finally enjoy. And it finally arrived.

She loved being alone, but the sound of his voice and laughter was enough for Annabelle to yell at him to shut up.

Hours later, a knock on the door startled her, and she yelled for the person to come in.

She was shocked when she saw Mr. DeWitt's face.

"Fuck, it's you." Annabelle muttered, with a sigh.

That got the man to sigh as he walked inside, the only bright part was that he was holding a tray of food that Annabelle was dreading to get herself with her headache and her sensitivity to sounds.

"Vanessa asked me to check on you and to deliver this." Mr. DeWitt stated, with a surrendering tone.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow at that, and he sat by her bedside, his gaze unreadable.

"I wanted to apologize, also."

Annabelle stilled as she sat up from her bed, and she raised an eyebrow before accepting the tray of food he had brought with him.

Once the tray was settled, she looked back at him, and she shifted a little, uncomfortable with his unreadable eyes.

"Apologize then." Annabelle stated, nonchalantly, and the amusement in his eyes was enough for her to also smile softly back.

"You've changed." Mr. DeWitt quietly mused.

"Doesn't everyone?" Annabelle replied back, softly, picking up a fork and she began to play a bit with her food, "You've changed, as well. Judging by what I've known about you before."

Mr. DeWitt didn't say anything, and Annabelle looked up at him. That's when her breath caught her throat as she noticed the tortured look on his face, yet it was only for a moment. He seemed to have caught her eyes, and he got up, hurriedly.

"I've got to go down now. I don't want to be scolded by the mistress." Mr. DeWitt stated, a bit sarcastically.

Annabelle nodded, smiling a bit wider at his joke. Before he could close the door, Annabelle called out to him.

"I'll accept your apology if you'll accept mine." She stated, noticing that he paused when she called out for him.

The sight of a slight smile on his face before he closed her door gave her his answer.

* * *

Another night, another crowd of men to please.

Annabelle sighed as she sat down next to Mr. DeWitt at the bar.

"I swear, if any of these men ask me to sit on their laps, I might just accidentally let this cigar fall on their laps." Annabelle mused as she took another puff.

"That would be a sight to see." Mr. DeWitt responded, amused.

Annabelle turned to face him, and she gave him her unfinished cigar, which he accepted gratefully. She could tell he was a bit tipsy, judging by the shine in his eyes and the relaxed position he was sitting in.

"Are you off-duty right now?" Annabelle asked, curiously.

"It's just my break. Speaking of breaks, isn't yours done by now?" Mr. DeWitt pointed out, and Annabelle rolled her eyes before standing up and brushing her skirts.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Annabelle mumbled, a bit tiredly.

Mr. Dewitt let out a snort as he watched her walk away, and Annabelle turned around to flip him off, yet all of a sudden, she was caught in a tight embrace from behind. That's when she saw Mr. DeWitt's eyes widen and he got up, immediately, and walking up to the person who was holding her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Mr. DeWitt warned the person. Annabelle knew it had to be one of the rowdy customers who had been eyeing her all night, but she had avoided those men because she didn't feel like dealing with the leering and the grabbing.

"Did Vanessa hire some dirty hand to scare us off?" The man mocked Mr. DeWitt from behind her, and Annabelle tried not to yell as he pinched her waist teasingly.

"She hired me to keep her girls safe. What you're doing right now isn't, so I'm trying to warn you not to do something stupid." Mr. DeWitt stated, annoyed.

The man didn't seem to like what he was getting, and Annabelle felt herself get pushed to the ground and Mr. DeWitt immediately went to her side and helped her up.

"Are you okay, Miss Watson?" Mr. DeWitt asked her, concerned. Annabelle looked up at him, alarmed, yet it was too late.

One of the men from the other side of the brothel had overhead and Annabelle noticed that he looked at her, curiously.

"Annabelle? Annabelle Watson? Is that you?" The man asked, peering at her. Annabelle froze. Judging by the man's clothes and his English accent, he was definitely one of those suitors back home in England she had managed to steal money from.

When she didn't respond, Mr. DeWitt placed a protective hand on her back and looked at her apologetically.

"Oh my God, it is you! I can't believe it! Your brother will be thrilled to hear—"

Annabelle watched in horror when Mr. DeWitt knocked the man out. Many people began to scream and chaos began to ensue. Annabelle found herself pulled by Mr. DeWitt as he hurriedly brought her into the back where the kitchen was located.

That's where they were greeted by a surprised Vanessa.

"What the hell is going on?" She asked them, noticing that the screaming was coming from inside her brothel.

Annabelle didn't know what to say, but she felt herself being pushed towards Vanessa by Mr. DeWitt.

"You need to explain your situation now." Mr. DeWitt insisted as he surveyed the area.

Annabelle nodded, and she grabbed Vanessa's hands, pleadingly, "You've been kind to me, Vanessa, but there's something you need to know about me. I'm being chased, and some man just figured out who I was. Mr. DeWitt actually just helped me, but I think we also caused some trouble."

Vanessa seemed at a lost, but the sound of horses neighing by the kitchen door that lead to outside got both the women's attention.

Annabelle led Vanessa outside, and both of them looked surprised when they saw Mr. DeWitt bring the a horse toward them.

"We need to go. Now." Mr. DeWitt stated, seriously, looking at Annabelle.

Annabelle was confused, but she felt Vanessa's hand on her arm and she turned to face the woman who has helped her for so long.

"Go." Vanessa urged her, softly.

"What?" Annabelle asked, confused.

"Follow Mr. DeWitt. I trust that he'll keep you safe." Vanessa stated, more sure of herself as she pushed Annabelle towards the horse.

Mr. DeWitt seemed to take that as his cue as he helped Annabelle on the horse.

"What about you? What about the girls?" Annabelle finally managed to find her voice to ask.

Everything was happening so fast. This morning, she had thought it was going to be a normal day of bedding strangers and taking care of the girls. Yet, here she was, about to be saved once more by Mr. DeWitt and saying goodbye to the woman who had saved her not so long ago.

"We will be fine. I just wish I can guarantee that for you, darling." Vanessa replied, her face full of grief.

"She'll be fine, Vanessa." Mr. DeWitt assured the woman as he offered her a consoling rub on the back. Vanessa pulled the man into a hug, which surprised him, but he awkwardly returned it.

"Take care of my girl, Booker DeWitt, or I'll cut you into pieces and feed you to the dogs." Vanessa stated, through a broken voice.

Annabelle fought tears as Mr. DeWitt nodded and wished his goodbye. Vanessa patted Annabelle's hand before letting go.

Mr. DeWitt got on the horse and he glanced behind at Annabelle, "Hold on tight."

Annabelle nodded, and she wrapped her arms around his torso, tightly. She turned around and whispered goodbye to Vanessa, who waved in return while pressing her other hand on her heart.

"Goodbye, my darling Belle."

With a gruff yell from Mr. DeWitt, Annabelle felt the wind against her cheeks as she buried her face in Mr. DeWitt's back.

She hoped he didn't feel the wetness staining his shirt.

* * *

A:N/ There ya go!


	6. Chapter 6

A:N/ Here's another update! Can't wait to get this story on the road. Literally.

* * *

Annabelle didn't know how long they've been traveling for. She just felt numb as she held onto his torso, tightly, and the sound of the horse's hard breathing and the hooves on the hardened ground was enough to lull her to sleep when she needed it.

Yet, whenever she woke, she just felt tired.

So, when they came to a stop, Annabelle found it hard to adjust herself as she tried to steady herself after she watched Mr. DeWitt get off his horse.

She gasped, loudly, when she felt his hands on her waist as he easily picked her up just a bit in order to get her off the horse. The feel of the ground beneath her covered feet was enough to bring her back into reality. She looked up at where they stopped, and her blue eyes widened slightly at the sight of an obvious, beat-up bar. She looked around to survey her surroundings since she was just so used to burying her head against his back to even notice where they were.

It was desolate, yet…it was breathtakingly beautiful in its loneliness.

It was obvious that no one truly lived around here and the bar was just set up for travelers like themselves. The land was green, and the sun was so bright; for the first time, Annabelle realized she was breathing fresh air, not second-hand smoke or some man's breath. It was actual…

She felt foreign substance on her face and she pressed a hand on her face, gently, and she looked down at her hand in shock.

How long has it been since she cried? Has it been really that long…

"Miss Watson." A voice called from behind her, and Annabelle quickly wiped her face with her hands before she turned around to face him.

"Y-Yeah." She replied, quietly.

She noticed that Mr. DeWitt's eyes were narrowed, studying her, and she hoped he didn't see the tear-stained cheeks she didn't manage to wipe away quick enough.

He didn't say anything for a moment, and Annabelle shifted, uncomfortably. He sighed and he pointed towards the bar.

"I'm going to go in and ask if they have some supplies and buy some food. The sun is going to be setting in an hour or so, so I'm sure we'll be camping outside." Mr. DeWitt informed her, gruffly.

Annabelle didn't trust herself to say anything, so she nodded, crossing her arms as she tried to peer inside.

Mr. DeWitt seemed to understand what she was trying to do, and he lifted his arm in warning as if to block her path.

"Don't even think about going in there. It's no place for a woman." Mr. DeWitt warned her.

Annabelle blinked in disbelief, and she laughed when she realized he was being serious.

She lifted an eyebrow as she stared at him with narrowed eyes, "You think this place isn't for a woman like me? I _stayed_ at a place like this, Mr. DeWitt."

Mr. DeWitt opened his mouth to argue with her, but Annabelle simply pushed his arm away and she smiled when she heard a frustrated sigh and hesitant footsteps sounded behind her.

* * *

Getting supplies and food was easy, and Annabelle smiled to herself when she noticed the irritation on Mr. DeWitt's face.

It had been hard for him to get the bartender to be nice, so when Annabelle stepped in, looking at the bartender from underneath her eyelashes and biting her pretty pink lip, the bartender was more than willing to help her out.

As Mr. DeWitt finished packing the stuff in, Annabelle risked smiling at him before saying, "Next time you want to tell me that there's no place for a woman like me. Just remember Mr. DeWitt, I'm more than a simple woman."

Mr. DeWitt shot back an irritated look before sighing and letting a dry chuckle come out of his mouth, "I'm sure I'll remember, Miss Watson."

The way his smile flashed at her and the humor in his usual, stoic green eyes made Annabelle paused a bit.

She hoped he didn't see the flush in her cheeks as he helped her back on the horse.

* * *

Annabelle looked at the sky in awe.

"The stars never cease to amaze me." Annabelle whispered as she clutched the woven blanket around her.

Mr. DeWitt shrugged as he poked the fire for more warmth, "You get used to it after a while."

Annabelle scoffed as she looked at the man from across the fire.

"Were you always this cynical, Mr. DeWitt?" Annabelle asked, sarcastically as she leaned against the tent that she was going to stay in.

"Were you always this inquisitive, Miss Watson?" Mr. DeWitt shot back, smiling at her.

Annabelle rolled her eyes, "Well, I'm just saying that the Mr. DeWitt from a year ago was a whole lot sweeter."

The smile on his face quickly disappeared and an angry snarl replaced it, and Annabelle was startled at how…disturbingly angry his face was.

"Yeah, well that boy was a whole lot stupider and naïve." Mr. DeWitt spat back.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow at that, "I don't believe being a kind man is a crime, Mr. DeWitt."

Mr. DeWitt scoffed and his eyes returned to staring at the fire as he poked and prodded, "Well, it is when you decide to become a soldier."

The intenseness of his gaze made Annabelle shiver. She was never in any army, but she had personal battles of her own. She knew how hard it could be.

Annabelle watched as he got up and walked around to get to the horse who still had a bit of supplies on him. He tossed her a wolf's pelt and Annabelle managed to catch it.

"I suggest you go inside and get some rest, Miss Watson. We have a long day ahead of us." Mr. DeWitt stated, straight-forwardly.

Annabelle eyed the man, trying to read his body language. He had gotten more muscular, judging by how big his forearms were and how rough his hands are. From her faint memory, she remembered how small he used to be and how young. He seemed like he aged, quickly, for just a year of being in the army.

It made her think about how much she had changed over the course of the year as well.

She watched as he also took out a bottle of whiskey, and she was amazed at how quickly he drained it as he took long gulps.

"Mr. DeWitt…" Annabelle trailed off when he put a hand up, pointing towards the tent.

Annabelle watched him warily as she got up, pulling the blanket around her, tightly.

She didn't say anything else as she entered the small tent and watched as Mr. DeWitt took a seat and began to drift off to sleep as he leaned against the horse.

She couldn't miss how tightly he held onto the empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

* * *

"You never told me where we were going." Annabelle stated as the horse beneath them trotted.

"You didn't ask." Mr. DeWitt replied easily as he held onto to the reins.

Annabelle sighed, "Well, I didn't expect to be running off on a horse with you, Mr. DeWitt."

"Booker."

Annabelle paused and she knew that he could sense her confusion and she heard him sigh.

He turned to face her slightly and she caught a slight annoyance in his face, "My name's Booker. Mr. DeWitt is a bit much, Miss Watson."

"Well, then, you should call me Annabelle then." Annabelle retaliated, jutting her chin out a bit.

Mr. DeWitt snorted at her.

"I'd rather stick with Miss Watson." Mr. DeWitt stated, turning back his attention to directing the horse.

"Why?" Annabelle asked, indecorously.

"You're older than me, aren't you?" Mr. DeWitt asked, nonchalantly.

Annabelle gripped his torso, tightly, and she smiled in satisfaction when he groaned in pain.

"Says the man who looks _much_ older than me." Annabelle stated in warning.

Mr. DeWitt didn't say anything, and she was about to say something until a sign caught her attention. The sign was a welcoming one, and Annabelle realized that they were entering a town, judging by the shadowed figures of houses and people.

"Where are we?" Annabelle asked, softly.

Mr. DeWitt didn't say anything, and Annabelle took a deep breath as the town got clearer and the houses and stores were now closer than ever as people stared at them and whispered.

Annabelle could feel the stares on her, but what caught her attention was a middle-aged woman running up to them.

"Booker DeWitt, if that's you, you better come down here and give me a big hug." The woman called out to him. Annabelle noticed that the woman had a kind-looking face and a sweet smile. She had wrinkles, but she was beautiful and Annabelle couldn't help but feel a bit relaxed in her presence.

Annabelle watched as Mr. DeWitt smiled at the woman and obeyed. He tied the reins on a post next to a watering hole. He offered his hand to Annabelle, and the woman smiled in her direction as she watched Annabelle get off the horse.

"Well, who do we have here? Are you gonna introduce me to your lovely lady friend, Booker?" The woman prodded, and Annabelle couldn't help but smile at the sigh that escaped Mr. DeWitt's mouth.

She watched as Mr. DeWitt hugged the woman and she tried not to notice the stares and whispers around them, and she noticed that Mr. DeWitt motioned towards her and that he was introducing her to the woman. Her blue eyes widened as she realized that Mr. DeWitt was about to reveal who she was, and she wasn't about to reveal herself when her brother was still out there trying to look for her.

"Martha, this is— "

"My name is Anna. I... I'm new in New York, and I knew…Booker from London. He told me he was from here, so I had to ask if he knew a good place to stay and well, here we are!" Annabelle stated, interrupting Mr. DeWitt, who stared at her as if she was a fish out of the water.

Martha, the kind-looking middle-aged woman, seemed to take it by stride as her smile widened.

"Well, I'm glad he brought you here, darlin'. My name is Martha, I've been takin' care of Booker since he was a kid. Not that that he's not anymore. He's just a six-foot kid now." Martha teased and Annabelle couldn't help but laugh at Martha's infectious teasing.

She winced when she noticed Mr. DeWitt glare at her in warning. She looked around and she noticed that the people were still staring.

Mr. DeWitt sighed, "Alright, I'm back. No, I'm not going back to the city anytime soon. This is Anna. No, she's not a threat nor is she a special lady friend. She's _just_ a friend who's looking to relax in our town for a while. Now, ya'll can talk to her. She doesn't bite."

Annabelle didn't know how to react to Mr. DeWitt's sudden outburst, but it seemed to work.

The people around them seemed to stop staring and whispering as they warily began to introduce themselves. Annabelle smiled and nodded, introducing herself over and over again.

She turned to her side to ask Mr. DeWitt a question, and she noticed that he wasn't there.

When she finally spotted him, she noticed that there was an old man speaking to Mr. DeWitt, and for once, she was glad she averted her eyes.

She wasn't sure how she felt about a slightly withered hand on a broad soldier's back.

* * *

Annabelle looked around the house as she stared in wonderment. It was such a nice, quaint place. It wasn't like the Estate she had known her whole life or as dark and smelly as the brothel back in the docks. It kind of reminded her of what she had always thought a home would actually be for her one day.

"You can stay in this room, love. It's not much, but I hope you can make what you can out of it." Martha stated, showing Annabelle the room she was going to be staying in.

Annabelle smiled as she looked around, noticing the feminine touches in the warm room. The walls were painted a soft white decorated with homemade accents like knitted blankets and cross-stitched embroidery.

"Did you make this?" Annabelle asked, softly, caressing the soft blanket.

Martha shook her head, the fond smile on her face made Annabelle regard her softly.

"It was Booker's ma. She used to knit and sew a lot when Booker's pa was working. It gave her something to do around the house." Martha answered, gently.

"Well, she seems very talented." Annabelle stated in awe.

"Was. She was talented." A gruff voice interrupted them, and Annabelle looked up and noticed that Booker standing at the doorway, his gaze unreadable.

Martha sighed, "Booker, don't go sneaking up on people like that. I don't understand why you can't knock. I'm sure I taught you how to."

Annabelle couldn't help but laugh at that and Martha's eyes twinkled as she looked at Booker.

"I like her," Martha stated, patting Annabelle's arm, "Now, lunch will be ready soon. So, both of you should be on the porch soon."

Booker nodded, curtly, his arms crossed and Martha patted his stubbled cheek before winking at Annabelle.

Annabelle thanked her, and she focused her attention on Mr. DeWitt after she made sure Martha left.

"About earlier— "

"Anna, huh?" Booker interrupted her, one of his eyebrows raised.

Annabelle sighed and she began to pull out the pins in her hair as she regarded the man before her.

"Everyone knows me as Belle or Annabelle Watson. I thought it would be safer to just go with Anna." Annabelle stated, shrugging her shoulder and she sighed in relief when her brown locks cascaded down her back. It was beginning to feel heavy atop her head.

She also felt a bit grimy, but she remembered that she didn't even have any extra set of clothes with her.

"I set some clothes out for you in the bathroom." Mr. DeWitt's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Annabelle looked up in surprise and blinked. Mr. DeWitt scoffed at her expression, "You complain about me being unkind, yet you stare at me as if I've grown another head."

Annabelle rolled her eyes, but she smiled as she shook her head, "You just surprise me, sometimes."

Mr. DeWitt didn't seem taken aback as he nodded and took his leave.

"Booker."

That made him pause, and he turned to look at her.

"Thank you." Annabelle said, softly.

Mr. DeWitt nodded, a small smile on his face.

"You're welcome, Anna."

* * *

Eating lunch on a porch was something that Annabelle couldn't believe she was doing after a year of eating in her room as she stared at the ships that sailed.

That and she wasn't used to company that wasn't drunk men or scantily dressed women. Apparently, eating lunch on the porch was also slang for 'people also come over and eat lunch and ask you a bunch of questions.' Annabelle didn't mind it; if anything, she was glad she wasn't having lunch with a grumpy man.

Annabelle couldn't help but laugh, softly, as she looked at Booker's direction as he was talking to what she assumed were buddies of his from awhile back. They seemed friendly, but was Booker always so tense and rigid?

"So, Miss Anna, you gotta tell me what you're drinking. You have such nice skin and a pretty face." One of the woman asked Annabelle, teasingly.

Annabelle laughed in response, and she smiled politely as women around her chattered on and on.

"Your accent sounds pretty fancy, too. Like one of those European ladies!"

Annabelle had froze at that, and she was frantically trying to find a story she could use without giving away too much.

"Weren't you in some convent?" Someone asked her, and Annabelle looked at the intruder in surprise.

The women also began to blush at the sight of the man who walked up to Annabelle.

"Y-yes, I grew up in a convent in London since I was three. They had…multiple nuns who were from all over Europe, that's why my accent is a bit weird." Annabelle managed to say as she looked away from Booker.

Much to her relief, Annabelle noticed that the women were now focused on the man in front of them, and their eyes seemed to shine with amazement and wonder.

"Mr. DeWitt! I heard you were the hero at Wounded Knee!" One of them crooned.

Annabelle turned to face Booker, but the sight of his face made her throat close up and her breath caught.

The expression on his face even made the women stop talking as they stared at the woman who managed to give such a dark expression on his face.

"I-I—" The woman tried to stutter out, but Booker cut her off as he turned around and left abruptly, going inside the house.

"You shouldn't have said anything, Lily." One of the women scolded, sighing as she placed a hand on Lily's trembling shoulder.

"I didn't know it would offend him." Lily stated, softly.

One of the women shrugged, "Men and war have both sides, Lils. You either boast about it or you live long enough to realize you have blood on your hands. Mr. DeWitt…well, he's neither at this point."

Annabelle casted a concerned glance at Lily before staring at the cup of tea in her hands, watching as the smoke curled up in the air.

She swore she could hear distant screams and cries.

* * *

Annabelle took a deep breath of the fresh air that she was starting to get used to, and she looked up at the night sky, trying to count the countless stars in awe. She stood on the porch, and she noticed that laughter and dim lights was still in the air as she waved back at the people who were singing and dancing a few hundred feet away.

It had been two weeks of sticking around in the little town that Booker gave her shelter in.

Annabelle was still astounded when it came to the friendliness and warmness of the people. Martha especially doted on her, and Annabelle wasn't used to such a thing.

She was used to someone using her something.

Annabelle was insistent when it came to helping Martha out around the house since she was starting to feel a bit restless, so Martha finally gave in and would send Annabelle out for errands.

When it came to the man who saved her, Booker was…around, yet Annabelle noticed that he was even more quiet and broody as he would disappear during the day and she would wake up in the middle of the night, hearing the sound of his dirtied boots stomping up the wooden stairs.

Annabelle was more than happy to be out of his way ever since that one day he had that darkened look on his face after poor Lily had questioned his about his infamous stint in the Battle of Wounded Knee.

She had tried not to look at him differently, but it was easier to keep out of his way when he was still a bit on edge, and even she was on edge now and then. Martha seemed to also be concerned for her ward, but she didn't say anything when he would come in and out most of the time and Annabelle didn't have the heart to point it out to the kind woman.

"There you are, darlin'. I thought you'd be asleep in your room, but I'm glad to see you enjoying the night air." Martha's voice sounded from behind her.

Annabelle turned around and smiled, widely, "It's so gorgeous here at night. I'm not very used to seeing so many stars."

Martha chuckled at her amazement, "I'm glad that a beautiful young woman like you enjoys the simple things. Lord knows that the women around here can be a bit dense when it comes to being from a small town."

Annabelle giggled, forcibly, a bit at that, remembering how many women were always clamoring and asking her questions about the city near the docks. It was dark memories that usually filled her mind when the women asked, but Annabelle couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic when it came to the young women she had befriended back in the brothel.

She wanted to send a letter back to Vanessa and them, to reassure them that she was okay and safe, yet she knew she had to talk to Booker about that and _that_ was an issue that seemed to be a closed subject at this point.

"Before I forget, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to church with me tomorrow. I was waiting until you were more settled and familiar with this town of ours to ask you. You don't need to go, if you feel forced to, Anna. I just remember Booker mentioning that you came from a convent, so I was wondering if you were still the religious type." Martha offered, gently.

Annabelle felt comfort fill her soul at the invitation, realizing that she had missed some semblance of a religion. She had used the Bible as comfort when she was growing up in the convent, and Lord knows that she needed the comfort no more than ever.

Yet…

She felt too dirty and guilty to go to church, but the hopeful glint in Martha's eyes made her accept without another word.

"I would love to, Martha. Thank you." Annabelle thanked, softly.

* * *

The church was a bit different than with what Annabelle was used to. Instead of ornate, mosaic windows and looming sculptures of the saints and angels, the small white church had wide windows and no decorated embellishments of some sort. Wooden pews with no padding was kind of similar to the church Annabelle had been used to, growing up. Other than that, everything was different and simple and that reassured Annabelle a bit.

"Here we go, darlin'." Martha stated, ushering Annabelle in the pew that was in the middle and Annabelle nervously sat down, smoothing down her skirts.

She looked around, and she even smiled and waved a bit when she saw most of the people who had been kind enough to hold conversations with her these past two weeks.

She noticed that Booker wasn't there.

Before she could ponder to where he was, the organ started playing and Annabelle knew that it was the signal for the service beginning. She took a deep breath, and she hoped she would be able to sit through a service without the devil whispering in her ear and telling her to flee.

Annabelle excused herself in the middle of the service, and Martha had nodded, understandingly. Yet, Annabelle could feel the eyes on her as she left, hurriedly.

She couldn't do it.

The preacher had talked about sins and how God was graceful and merciful enough to forgive them, but Annabelle felt her soul was too dark. She had scoffed, remembering every dirty thought and deed she had done for the past years. All the men she had tricked and all the men she had used, it was enough to make Annabelle start breathing deeply and trying to escape.

When she managed to get outside, Annabelle took a deep breath and she fell to her knees, hugging herself as soon as she reached the steps of Martha's house.

She didn't know how long she was there, but she was too busy trying to calm herself down.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she saw an all too familiar handkerchief thrown on her lap. She didn't bother to look up when she felt his bulking presence by her side as the rickety staircase dip a bit from his weight.

They both sat there in silence, and Annabelle finally picked up the handkerchief on her lap and began to play with the sides of it.

"…Do you believe in God, Mr. DeWitt?" Annabelle asked, softly, finally looking up at the man sitting next to her.

He had been smoking, a bottle in his other hand, and he had been looking at her already, unsteadily. Annabelle knew from experience with dealing with overly drunk men.

Booker didn't even say anything immediately. He took another gulp from his beer, and he took another drag from his cigarette.

He got up after a moment, and Annabelle watched as he began to slowly walk down the staircase. She watched his broad back walk away until he paused, and she was greeted by the sight of a foreign yet nostalgic sight of kind green eyes.

"I believe in you, Miss Watson."

With that said, Booker turned back around and began walking away.

Annabelle's heart beating with every step he took, and she closed her eyes and placed his handkerchief on his face.

The sound of silence finally filling her mind.

* * *

A:N/ I just love this character study so much.


	7. Chapter 7

A:N/ I think it's interesting that Lady Comstock was supposed to have a bigger part, but it was cut since they wanted to focus on Elizabeth and Booker's father/daughter relationship. Guys, I lie awake thinking about how good of a mother and how protective Annabelle would've been of her daughter. It kills me.

* * *

 **Upstate New York, Late 1890.**

Annabelle never went to church on Sundays since, and darling Martha never questioned why. She would just wish Annabelle a good morning and informed her that she would be back later in the day.

Annabelle would spend her Sundays simply gazing off as she sat on the porch with a cup of coffee in hand. She smiled and waved when she noticed some kids play outside while the service was going on, and they would smile and wave back, shyly.

Annabelle did feel a heavy burden when it came to skipping Sundays, but the heavy burden was also joined with the sins of her past. There were days where Annabelle would get up and fidget with her dress as she stared at that small white church in the distance, but she always ended up sitting back down in that same chair on that same porch.

Yet, Annabelle felt a bit better knowing that she wasn't alone when it came to not attending service. She knew that odd and mysterious man was either drinking or smoking somewhere. It had been three weeks since that emotional encounter she had with him when he turned back and stared at her blue eyes with his green ones.

She didn't know where they stood when it came to each other. They had been friendly acquaintances before she left him on that ship. Then, they had been bitter foes in the brothel until they acknowledged each other's apologies. Now, he had saved her once again and Annabelle didn't know whether she was grateful for it or wary of it.

She didn't know the man. When all is said, and done, Booker DeWitt had a temper and a bipolar attitude that she can't seem to understand. Most of the townsfolk would say it was the war that had changed him, and Annabelle would understand that. She was surrounded by army men back in London and even in the brothel by the docks. But, Booker didn't seem to show any sign of the men she had known back then. It was either they turned into monsters that feasted on the darkest sins or it was either they converted into religion and prayed that God won't send them to Hell.

Booker was…none of those. He was… struggling, and Annabelle found comfort in that. Maybe that's why she found herself always being drawn to him. It was as if they had a silent agreement between each other, yet they can't figure out what agreement it was that made them still linked to each other.

Annabelle sighed and she gathered her bearings and thoughts before she got up and picked up the sack of clothing she needed to clean before the sun went down.

Martha had told her about the river next to the church and had suggested that Annabelle should was her laundry down there if need be. Annabelle was more than happy to oblige since it would also be helping Martha, who was still a saint in her eyes.

Annabelle managed to walk towards the river, carefully and slowly, but she couldn't help but hear some singing before she reached her destination. Afar, behind the church, she paused at the sight of the preacher in the water, surrounded by a handful of people. She spotted the others standing on land as they sang and lifted their arms up.

She could hear the familiar tune of a hymnal, but she couldn't make out the words they were saying. She bent down and rolled her sleeves up as she got ready to wash, but she still couldn't help but stare at what was going on. As she continued to wash, she noticed that the preacher asked one of the people in the water to come forward.

"Do you want your sins to be washed away? Do you want to be forgiven?" She could hear the words of the preacher bellow in the wind.

She could barely make out the person's nod and before she knew it, she watched as the preacher dunked the person into the river for two seconds and letting the person come up for air. She gasped as she noticed that everyone began to cheer and sing even louder.

What exactly was going on?

"It's called a baptism." A voice informed from behind her.

Annabelle gasped and dropped the clothes she had been holding and turned around. She was greeted by the sight of one of the pregnant woman, Laura, she got to meet just two days ago.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to scare you." Laura apologized with a small smile and laugh. Annabelle smiled, embarrassed, "No, it's fine. I didn't expect to see people here besides, well, over there." Annabelle pointed towards the church, and Laura nodded, understandingly.

"Well, I'm about to pop, so my husband wanted me to stay home for today." Laura explained, with a light giggle.

Annabelle nodded, and she shuffled her feet a bit as she turned to face the…baptism again.

"What is this baptism supposed to do?" Annabelle asked, finally, after a moment of watching the preacher dunk another person in the water and pulling them back out.

"It's supposed to cleanse our sins, like how Jesus was baptized by John the Baptist." Laura pointed out, slowly walking towards Annabelle so she could stand next to her and watch as well.

Annabelle didn't say anything as she kept on watching. She could see the light and acceptance in people's faces as they came out of the water, but instead of feeling happy for them, she felt…uneasy.

She looked down at the dirty clothes she was washing and she picked up the handkerchief that Booker had always given her, reminding her of every time she had cried.

Was it really that simple? You get soaked in water and you're…okay?

It was too…

"Booker DeWitt, would you like for your sins to be cleansed?"

Annabelle whipped her head towards the baptism once more, and she couldn't believe her eyes as she made out the tall man that she had been thinking about lately. He seemed hesitant as he made his way towards the preacher in the water.

"Well, I'll be. Booker might find peace." Laura whispered and that made Annabelle's heart pound even more.

Would he find peace? If he came out of the water, looking peaceful and forgiven, would that mean she would find peace as well?

Annabelle watched as Booker accepted the preacher's hand, and when she expected for the preacher to finally dunk the man in, she froze.

"No, no, no!" Booker's all-too-familiar gruff voice bellowed, and everyone seemed to stand there in shock as they watched the young man push the preacher away as he tried to get out of the water.

"Oh!" Laura gasped. Annabelle watched as Booker finally reached land, and he panted as he stood there, his day-old clothes dripping and his bearded face angry and distraught.

Annabelle could make out the figure of Martha running up to him and grabbing his arm, trying to soothe him or talk some sense to him, Annabelle didn't know. She watched as Booker pulled away from Martha and made his way through the crowd as they stared at him.

Annabelle could feel Laura's eyes staring at Booker, but Annabelle wanted to look back at the man he had rejected.

Annabelle paused and she turned right back to washing the clothes, hurriedly, wanting to get away from there.

Preacher Witting was staring straight at her.

* * *

Annabelle noticed that Martha was eerily quiet during dinner that night. It was odd. Martha would usually try and make conversation, but Annabelle knew that now wasn't the right time.

"I managed to wash the clothes. They should be drying right now." Annabelle offered, trying to act as if everything was okay.

Martha nodded, absently. She played with the food in her plate, and she sighed before finally looking up at Annabelle.

"His father had been a soldier as well. A good and respected one around here. He kept this town proud, yet his father had one day came around here with Booker in tow and everyone wanted to know who his mother was. I was hired by his father to be the boy's nanny and nursemaid, so I did. Loved him the moment I set my eyes on him. He was a dear boy, energetic and eager to learn. I wonder what his father would say now, seeing his son like this." Martha mused, her tone sad and far-off.

Annabelle couldn't help but be curious at what she had just heard as she stared at Martha, questioningly.

"What of his mother…? I thought she had designed everything in that room. Didn't she live here as well?" Annabelle asked, confused.

Martha seemed to ponder at Annabelle's questions and she almost seemed like she was going to answer them, but she hesitated.

"I think…Booker should be answering those questions. I said too much already. I'm sorry, dear, I'm getting old and well, I just…I just wanted someone to know that I love him. That…" Martha trailed off, and Annabelle was taken aback as the woman broke out into a sob.

Immediately, Annabelle got up and soothed the woman as she wrapped her arms around Martha and slightly rocked back and forth.

"You're a good woman, Anna." Martha whispered against Annabelle's shoulder.

Annabelle didn't answer as her heart clenched at the sincerity behind Martha's voice.

If Martha only knew.

* * *

 **Upstate New York, 1891.**

Annabelle pushed open the wooden doors as she walked inside, looking everywhere.

"Well, hello there, darlin'. What are you doing in a place like this?" A man asked, sauntering to where she stood as she looked around.

"I'm looking for someone." Annabelle replied, easily, trying to read the man's behavior. If the man was extremely drunk, she knew she would be dealing with a hands-y one. If he was just the right amount of drunk, she could charm her way out of this situation.

"Is it me?" The man asked, smiling down at her, and Annabelle fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ah, he was the right amount for her to flirt just a bit.

"Would you be a dear and get me a drink while I use the powder room?" Annabelle asked, her voice warm and soft. She pouted just a bit, and she could tell that her victim was tricked.

He nodded, quickly, and he wobbled towards the barkeep, slurring and all. Annabelle used that chance to escape and walk away, still looking around.

She walked up to a bartender, determined, "Hey, is there a brunet, about six-foot man around here? He's wearing month-old clothes and he has a bit of stubble on his chin. He also looks mean and angry if that helps."

The bartender nodded and scoffed as he looked at her, up and down, before pointing towards a corner booth.

"Are you his wife?" The bartender asked, a little surprised and saddened.

Annabelle was too impatient to think about what to say as she tried to peer into the corner booth, and she let out a sigh when she noticed a slumped figure.

"I say, Miss, you're a little too sweet-looking for a man like him. He also doesn't seem to be content, too. I suggest you just leave him and find yourself a more respectable man." The bartender stated after a moment.

Annabelle looked at the bartender, indecorously. "I suggest you keep your mind to yourself, Sir. You're a little too judgmental for a woman like me."

The bartender seemed to pause at that which made Annabelle smile to herself as she made her way to the corner booth he pointed towards.

Annabelle could hear a woman's giggle as she approached the booth. She fought a sigh as she stood in front of the booth and watched as Booker laughed obnoxiously as he drowned another glass of whatever alcohol he decided to drink. The woman was lounging herself all over him, and Annabelle knew very well that women always seemed to like doing that when it came to Mr. Booker DeWitt.

"Booker." Annabelle called out. Booker froze mid-drink as he looked up.

He still had those green eyes that crinkled and the ever-growing stubble on his chin and jaw. His brunet hair had grown a bit, but it just made him even more roguishly handsome which would explain why women were still attracted to him even though he reeked of alcohol and smoke.

Annabelle sighed. She had ridden on a horse all the way here, and here he was, safe and sound. Martha was worrying about nothing when it came to Booker being alive.

"Anna, what brings you all the way out here?" Booker slurred, his eyes drowsy and his smile sluggish.

Annabelle raised an eyebrow at that and she crossed her arms as she looked down at him, "You mean, what brings me here from the town over? Well, I came here to pick you up and bring you home. Martha's worried about you. It's been months since you've been gone."

Booker scoffed, and he slammed his drink down. He turned to the woman to his side and he smiled, "Darlin', this is Anna, that woman I saved back in London and the one who up and left and became a whore."

Annabelle gritted her teeth and she grabbed onto Booker's neckerchief and pulled him up, tightly.

"Listen here, Booker. I didn't come here to introduce me to your lady friend. I'm here to bring you back to Martha, the woman who actually loves a sorry man like you." Annabelle hissed, impatiently.

Booker pushed her hands away, and he got up, slowly. He grabbed his empty glass and walked towards the bar, and Annabelle begrudgingly followed. He set his glass down in front of the bartender, and the bartender looked at Annabelle, pointedly.

Annabelle shook her head and the bartender obeyed. Booker seemed to notice this and he turned to face Annabelle annoyed.

"What the fuck? Why you listen' to her?" Booker asked the bartender, angrily, turning his head back to the bartender, glaring.

"Sir, your wife came to take you—"

Booker cut him off with a laugh, "You think she's my wife? Oh God, she's not my fucking wife. You know how I know her? I somehow keep saving her, and she somehow keeps coming back into my life like a damn plague."

Annabelle heard enough. She grabbed Booker's head and slammed it against the countertop, knocking him out cold. The bartender's eyes were wide as he stared at her. She stared back, nonchalantly.

Then, she smiled and pulled out her coin purse.

"Anyways, how much do I owe you?"

* * *

Annabelle grabbed the reins of her horse, gently, and she made sure that Booker wasn't going to fall off. She looked down at the person who helped her carry Booker and put him onto the horse.

"Thanks for tying him in." Annabelle thanked the bartender as he backed away.

"No problem, ma'am." The bartender said with a smile.

Annabelle petted her horse as she sighed, "Ready to go home, Paris?" The horse whinnied in reply and Annabelle smiled. She was about to set off until she heard the bartender's cough.

She looked back down, an eyebrow raised.

The bartender was flushed as he looked at her, "I wanted to apologize about what I said earlier…You seem to be the type of a woman who has a good head on her shoulders."

Annabelle blinked, once, before she laughed, loudly. She sighed, and she looked down at the bartender and winked.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm just as messed up as he is."

With that said, Annabelle made a sound and Paris began to gallop away, leaving a smitten bartender behind.

* * *

Annabelle smiled and greeted the townsfolk as Paris trotted. They smiled at her, but they looked warily at Booker and sighed when they noticed him.

One of the men noticed the knocked-out Booker who was slumped and tied onto the horse.

"Where was he this time?" He called out to Annabelle, and she pointed towards the direction of the town over.

"Found him at the town right over." Annabelle answered back with a bellow.

The man sighed and shook his head. The other townsfolk also muttered and mumbled as they watched Annabelle return to Martha's house with Booker in tow. Annabelle ignored it as she climbed down from Paris and began to untie Booker from the horse. She didn't even bother to wince when Booker fell onto the ground with a loud thud.

Martha opened the door and she ran down the stairs as she saw Annabelle slugging one of Booker's arms around her shoulders. Martha helped on the other side and both women walked up the stairs as they struggled to heave the heavyset, bulky man onto one of the couches in the living room.

Once they managed to do that, Annabelle let out a moan of relaxation as she settled down onto one of the chairs. She closed her eyes to relax a bit, but she heard the soft whimpers of Martha and she immediately got up to soothe the woman.

"Hey, he's okay. He's here now." Annabelle stated, rubbing Martha's back.

Martha seemed to relax at that, yet her milky blue eyes were still on the unconscious man that was groaning on the couch.

A moment passed, and Annabelle was about to sit back on the chair and relax before taking a bath, but there was an urgent knock at the door and Annabelle sighed and got up.

Martha made a move to open the door, but Annabelle placed a hand on her arm before she could. Martha nodded, and she walked back to Booker and sat down by his side, placing her withered hand on his scowling face.

Annabelle opened the door and she was greeted by a panting young boy, "Miss Anna! My mom's giving birth! Mama said to come and get you!"

Annabelle immediately nodded and she looked at Martha to make sure she was okay. Martha waved her hand, urging Annabelle to go.

"Go, the town needs you." Martha stated, and Annabelle seemed to puff up a bit at the look of pride in Martha's eyes.

Annabelle grabbed the boy's hand and he was more than willing to lead the way.

* * *

The sound of a woman's cries was the sound that made Annabelle push her way through. Laura's, the designated midwife, eyes lit up as soon as he saw her, and he immediately grabbed her shoulders.

"The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby's neck. I need your help." Laura whispered, desperately.

Annabelle nodded, and she smiled at the woman in labor who looked at her in relief.

"Thank the Lord that you're here Anna." Esther stated as she panted, clinging onto her husbands' hand who seemed to be wrought in worry.

"Of course, I'm here. Okay, I want you to take deep breaths, okay? This baby is going to be just as healthy and beautiful as you are." Annabelle assured her as she knelt to examine what was going on.

She focused on the cord and she gently worked on it as she remembered watching the nuns do this when young mothers-to-be had come to them, not having the money to pay for doctors or any sort of medical help.

Annabelle began to sweat, but she concentrated until she knew that the baby was unwrapped and free of the umbilical cord.

The sound of the baby's cries filled the room and everyone seemed to sigh in relief and Esther and her husband began to cry with their baby. Annabelle looked at the baby in her hands in wonderment, and she smiled widely as she gave Laura the baby.

"It's a beautiful girl." Annabelle stated, happily, as she patted Esther's leg, gently.

"Thank you, Anna." Esther whispered in return.

"You're amazing, Miss Anna!" Esther's son stated, holding onto Annabelle as she stood up.

And, for once in her life, Annabelle did feel amazing.

* * *

Annabelle couldn't help but smile as she walked inside the house. She had saved a life and brought a new life into this world. It was a feeling that she couldn't shake off.

"There she is. My gorgeous wife." The sarcastic voice filled the living room, and Annabelle's happiness was short-lived as she turned to face the man who was glaring at her from the couch.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Annabelle shot back, sweetly. Her smile just as sarcastic as her tone.

She smiled even wider as she noticed that Booker cradled an ice pack on the top of his head.

"Peachy." Booker replied in distaste. Annabelle didn't bother to respond as she made her way to the staircase, but she paused at the bottom of it, looking at him.

His eyes were already trained on hers and she bit her lip before she began to talk.

"I don't know why you keep on leaving and going on drinking, gambling, and smoking binges, Booker, but…Martha really worries about you. I think the town does, too." Annabelle stated, crossing her arms.

Booker snorted at that, but his eyes had already softened when she mentioned Martha's name.

"Well, if we're spilling our feelings here, I guess it's my turn," Booker replied, and his gaze turned cold as he stared at her, "I don't know why you're still even here. I offered you a place to escape to, not stay. Unless you forgot, you have a brother who is still trying to hunt you down, _Annabelle_. So, get off your high horse and don't you dare try to talk to me like you know half the shit I'm going through."

Annabelle didn't even have a chance to reply as Booker got up and brushed past her as he walked up the stairs.

* * *

Annabelle lied awake that night, and she kept repeating the words that Booker shot back at her. He had been right. She had forgotten all about her brother and she had thought she had made a place for herself here.

It had been months since she managed to safely run away from the brothel. She had made friends with the townsfolk. They had taught her to ride a horse and they opened their doors to her when it came to pregnancies and labor. They had started calling her, "Martha's girl", and Annabelle had remembered how proud Martha was to hear that.

She could have had a home here, but the looming issue of Booker was always floating around. Martha was always worried. The townsfolk were worried.

Hell, Annabelle found herself wondering if he was even alive half the time he was away.

He had come and gone, like he was the stranger and she had made a place for herself. It was as if she was replacing the Booker DeWitt that the town had known, and she had felt guilty for assuming that role.

She turned over in her bed and she stared at the clothes that had once belonged to Booker's mother. She had been wearing those clothes because Booker had offered them to her a long time ago, and she had been grateful to blend in. They were simple and elegant, and you could tell Booker's mother had beautiful taste, judging by her own crafts.

Damn, she didn't even know about his mother.

Martha had mentioned his mother in passing, but Booker was a ghost in this house and Annabelle wanted answers so maybe, just maybe, she could help him.

Booker. Fuck.

Annabelle got up, and she began to pace the room. All her thoughts were of him, and she blamed him for it. If only she hadn't met him in that party back in London, maybe she wouldn't be in this mess.

It was cause of Booker that she started cussing and even drinking. She didn't even bother to adopt this sensible lady-ness that she used to have because there was no point anymore. Months of dragging his ass back home from bars and brothels was more than enough to make her bitter and resentful.

God, she hated him.

But, it wasn't because he was an annoying mess or the fact that Martha fretted over him. It wasn't because he was angry all the time or he drank all the time.

It was because he had helped her so many times before, and she couldn't even…

Annabelle sat down on the bed and let out a frustrated sigh.

"I can't even save you, Booker DeWitt."

* * *

A:N/ I imagine Booker and Annabelle's relationship to be a lot more complicated than any other theory out there. I just feel like they were both broken souls before finding each other in love, you know? Because for Booker to be so emotionally and mentally damaged after losing that one hope, which was Annabelle, and gaining another hope when he had his daughter, yet to still be so damaged that he sells the only thing left of his wife? Damn. It's just crazy to think that Annabelle was such an important person to him and she didn't really get that much of a story. I mean, technically, she did, but I want Annabelle Watson DeWitt, not Lady Comstock.


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